The Fontaines of Hollywood series: The Secret to Seduction

The Fontaines of Hollywood series: The Secret to Seduction

last updateHuling Na-update : 2023-11-29
By:  Ember CaseyOngoing
Language: English
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I'm screwed.If I want to keep my dream job, my new (and way-too-attractive-for-his-own-good) boss says I have to score an interview with one of the legendary Fontaine brothers of Hollywood.I know three things about the Fontaine brothers:1) that they're Hollywood royalty,2) that all four of them are ridiculously, mind-numbingly sexy,and3) that they never, ever give interviews.My only chance is to seduce one of them. The only problem? Historically speaking, I'm way more likely to put my foot in my mouth (or generally make a fool of myself) than charm the pants off anyone.That's where my way-too-sexy boss comes in. He might hold the fate of my job in his hands, but he's also totally willing to teach me the art of seduction. I only hope I can survive his lessons. . . Due to explicit scenes, this steamy romantic comedy is rated 18+.The Secret to Seduction is created by Ember Casey, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

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Kabanata 1

Chapter 1: Eight Days Until Certain Humiliation

"Scotch and soda, please."

The deep voice catches my attention immediately. I look up from my gin and tonic and sneak a peek at the man who just sat down beside me at the bar. He's a little older than me - maybe early thirties - and he has dark blond hair and a sexy spread of stubble across his jaw. As my eyes travel lower, I notice a little bit of a gut beneath his button-down shirt, but I tell myself that his broad shoulders balance out his shape quite nicely.

In any case, he's worth a shot.

I take a big gulp of my drink and turn toward him before I can chicken out.

"Scotch and soda," I say. "Good choice."

He looks over at me in surprise, as if he hadn't even noticed me sitting here. His eyes flick down to my drink - which is clearly not a scotch and soda - then to my body. I can't tell what he thinks. I'm definitely not a supermodel or anything, but I'm not completely atrocious, either. When I bought this top, my friend Amy assured me that I looked hot. But I'm not used to being "hot" - or even trying to be. Or whatever it is I'm doing right now.

"Do you like scotch, then?" he says finally.

"Actually, I've never had scotch," I blurt without thinking. When I realize I've just undermined my whole pick-up strategy, I rush on. "I mean, I've had whiskey. That's like scotch, right? Or..." Oh shit. What am I even talking about? "Or is scotch the same thing as whiskey? Or just whiskey that comes from Scotland? I know bourbon and whiskey are the same, and I like bourbon, and..." Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP.

The man looks less than impressed with my babbling, but he hasn't walked away yet, so there's that. My introduction might have been less than stellar, but this could still be salvageable. I take a deep breath - and a drink - and then turn to the man again.

"I'm Felicia," I say, flashing what I hope is a flirtatious smile.

The guy clears his throat. "Nice to meet you."

Before he can say anything else, the bartender arrives with his drink. I wait until the man's taken a couple of sips before I prompt, "And you are...?"

He pulls his glass away from his lips and gives me one more once-over, as if making a decision.

"I'm going to go sit with my friends," he says. And with that, he slides off his stool and heads off through the crowd.

Fair enough. Maybe he came here for an evening out with the guys. My optimism lasts for about half a minute - right until I notice him sliding into an empty seat at the far end of the bar. No friends in sight. And to top it off, it only takes him about ten seconds to start chatting up the girl to his left. The bartender shoots me a look of pity as he wipes down the bar in front of me.

Ugh. It's bad enough getting shot down, but having a witness definitely adds to the humiliation. I almost think about calling it a night and just heading home, but I can't. I'm desperate. Desperate and more than a little tipsy. Aren't I the catch of the day? But I can't help it. I only have eight days - eight measly days - to get my shit together before I must declare myself Completely Pathetic. Okay, so maybe that's a little melodramatic. But there's more than just my dignity at stake here. My job is on the line. My dream job - as a staff writer at Celebrity Spark magazine - which I only got after years of "paying my dues" as an underpaid intern.

I take another long sip of my drink. I've never liked gin, but drinking it makes me feel more sophisticated. And much braver than my usual beer ever seems to. I need every bit of bravery I can get tonight.

I close my eyes as the alcohol burns its way down my throat. Eight days. I can still do this, assuming I don't wuss out now. I just need to up my game.

Three stools down from me, I spot a guy in a navy sportcoat. He looks young - not too young, but probably fresh out of his MBA program - and he's tapping his glass and looking around as if he doesn't know what to do with himself. Briefly, his eyes meet mine, and I glance quickly away, trying to be coy. That's how this flirting thing works, right?

I stare at my glass and count to three before shooting another glance in his direction. He's not looking at me. He's staring at some blond woman farther down the room. She laughs at something the man beside her says, and her perfectly-highlighted hair catches the light. She doesn't seem to notice Mr. MBA, so after a moment his eyes begin roaming again.

This time, when his gaze lands on me, I smile. Only for a second, but long enough that I hope he gets the hint. I was too forward with the first guy. This time, I'm going to let Mr. MBA come to me.

I look back at the bar and take another drink. God, I hate gin. It tastes like I'm sipping the blood of a Christmas tree. When Mr. MBA gets over here, maybe I'll ask him to order me my usual lager.

But a full minute passes, and no one appears at my shoulder. I glance down the bar again. Mr. MBA is still drumming his fingers against his glass, and now he seems to be studying the rows of bottles behind the bar.

Maybe he's waiting for someone, I tell myself. A friend. Or a woman.

Or maybe my smile wasn't clear enough. One of those articles on flirting I read this afternoon mentioned that the "rules" of seduction have changed so much in the past two decades that modern men aren't likely to approach a woman unless they have some overt encouragement. Maybe I haven't been obvious enough.

I try to watch him without being completely creepy. I just need him to look my way again. One look. One more smile from me. Easy peasy.

But as the minutes tick by and he doesn't even turn his head my way, I'm forced to consider that I might need to find another target. If he were the least bit interested, he'd at least glance my direction, right? I take another drink, and in my frustration it turns out to be a bigger one than I intended. I cough, nearly choking as my throat burns with the fire of a thousand angry fir trees, and somehow my hacking gets Mr. MBA's attention. He looks over, and I wipe the tears away from my eyes and fight back my coughs, trying to look sexy again. This is my chance, and I won't blow it. As soon as I have everything under control, I shoot him another smile. A big one this time. My eyes lock on his, hopefully making my intentions more than clear.

My throat still burns. Another cough tries to weasel its way out of my lungs, but I swallow it back. Mr. MBA hasn't looked away, so I keep smiling at him, even though it feels like he should have gotten the hint by now. He can't have any doubts that I'm interested in meeting him. So why is he still in his chair?

Maybe I should go over there. Maybe he still wants me to make the first move, I tell myself. But the other part of my brain is quick to talk me out of it. I've already made the first move. I'm smiling at him, aren't I? If he's interested in pursuing more, then he will.

Hopefully before my cheeks start to hurt.

But just when I think he's about to slip off of his stool, I'm suddenly aware of someone behind me.

"You're going to scare him off if you keep grimacing at him like that," says a deep, familiar voice in my ear.

I drop my glass. It hits the bar and tumbles over, spilling gin everywhere - including down the front of my shirt.

I jump up and spin around, but I don't have to look to know who sneaked up behind me. It's none other than Roman Everet, my boss and the whole reason I'm doing all of this in the first place.

He's not supposed to be here, in this bar. Sure, we're only two blocks away from the Celebrity Spark offices, but this place is about as hole-in-the-wall as bars come on this side of town. And Roman Everet is not a hole-in-the-wall kind of guy. He's a designer-suits kind of guy. A Ferrari-and-mansion-in-the-Hills guy. Which means he should be somewhere swanky rubbing elbows with other Hollywood bigwigs.

But he's here. And I can tell by the way he's looking at me that he's seen more than enough to convince him I'm screwed. So I do what any self-possessed twenty-seven-year-old does when she realizes every last shred of her pride is on the floor.

I let out a squeak and run to the bathroom as fast as my discount-rack stilettos will take me.

And now, as I'm locking myself in a stall and trying not to hyperventilate, I guess I should probably explain what of all this is about.

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rachellynnb70
Really likes these books!
2023-12-12 04:46:16
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54 Kabanata
Chapter 1: Eight Days Until Certain Humiliation
"Scotch and soda, please."The deep voice catches my attention immediately. I look up from my gin and tonic and sneak a peek at the man who just sat down beside me at the bar. He's a little older than me - maybe early thirties - and he has dark blond hair and a sexy spread of stubble across his jaw. As my eyes travel lower, I notice a little bit of a gut beneath his button-down shirt, but I tell myself that his broad shoulders balance out his shape quite nicely.In any case, he's worth a shot.I take a big gulp of my drink and turn toward him before I can chicken out."Scotch and soda," I say. "Good choice."He looks over at me in surprise, as if he hadn't even noticed me sitting here. His eyes flick down to my drink - which is clearly not a scotch and soda - then to my body. I can't tell what he thinks. I'm definitely not a supermodel or anything, but I'm not completely atrocious, either. When I bought this top, my friend Amy assured me that I looked hot. But I'm not used to bein
last updateHuling Na-update : 2023-11-25
Magbasa pa
Chapter 2: An Explanation
I'm not normally a spaz, I promise. And I'm not normally the sort of girl who makes a fool out of herself trying to pick up guys at the local bar. Usually, I'm just Felicia Liddle, an all-around normal sort of person.Except that I write for Celebrity Spark, one of the country's premier celebrity news publications. Working there has been my goal from the moment I graduated from college - where I doubled up in Journalism and Psychology - and my dream ever since I was old enough to read the tabloid covers at the supermarket.Yeah, I'm that girl you've seen buying an armload of celeb magazines and frozen dinners at the checkout counter. And no, I'm not ashamed of it. I make no secret of the fact that I'm fascinated by celebrity culture (and fascinated by our culture's fascination with celebrity culture) even if it's not exactly something most people go around bragging about. But I worked my ass off to land this job. It took me five years of busting my butt at internship after internship
last updateHuling Na-update : 2023-11-25
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Chapter 3: The Trap
My new boss stared at me with an intensity that made my insides go all twisty. I couldn't tell whether the way he slightly narrowed his eyes meant he was intrigued or merely shocked that I, a lowly staff writer, dared to address him that way. Mr. Sexy Mogul was probably used to people like me groveling at his feet. I held my breath, expecting him to throw me out without another word.When he finally spoke, though, his voice was as calm as it had been a moment before. And there was a spark of something in his eyes that looked almost like humor."Emilia Torres might be a popular actress," he said, "but frankly, this magazine can do better."I'm pretty sure I gaped at him. "Better?" I couldn't believe it. Emilia Torres is all anyone is talking about now. Her latest film, Cataclysm: Earth, has a larger budget than any movie in Hollywood's history - and costars Luca Fontaine, her former/ongoing/future flame and the highest-paid action star in the biz. The two have been fixtures in the ta
last updateHuling Na-update : 2023-11-25
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Chapter 4: A Challenge
Why did I have the feeling that my new boss had just played me?"Snagging an interview with Luca Fontaine would be a feat, considering his general attitude toward interviews," he said, walking over to the table and leaning against the chair next to mine. "How exactly do you plan to do it? I'm assuming he hasn't already consented?"God, I hadn't realized how tall he was until he was towering over me. Between that and those eyes, my voice wanted to die in my throat. Besides - this was where my plan got sticky. But Roman Everet was asking me questions, which meant he was at least entertaining the idea of letting me try. I just needed to give him a reasonable answer and then I could work on the real plan later.Unfortunately, no answer - reasonable or otherwise - was popping into my brain. It was hard enough to get Emilia to agree to an interview with me, as unimportant as I am, and as Mr. Everet so kindly pointed out, she was usually eager to talk to the press. But as the silence stret
last updateHuling Na-update : 2023-11-25
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Chapter 5: Eight Days Left (Again)
Okay, so that brings us back to me dry-heaving in the bathroom of a dumpy bar.In the two days since my meeting with Mr. Everet, I've racked my brain for ideas of how I'm going to pull this off. And honestly? Against all odds, I've come to the conclusion that my best chance of getting an interview with Luca or any of the Fontaines will be to go with my original spur-of-the-moment (incredibly insane) plan to somehow charm my way in. I have nothing else to offer them - nothing they need, anyway. When you're Hollywood royalty, you're pretty much set in terms of money, fame, and connections. And the Fontaines are more than just royalty - they're a multi-generational dynasty. If you can name a position in the film industry, a Fontaine has been there. And won all the awards. And probably caused a lot of trouble - and broken a few hearts - along the way.In other words, they are the wet dream of every celebrity news outlet in existence. Except you don't become as big as the Fontaines withou
last updateHuling Na-update : 2023-11-25
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Chapter 6: My Boss Gives Me The Brutal Truth
My new boss stares at me, eyebrow raised in a question."I mean it," I repeat. "Tell me what I'm doing wrong, Mr. Everet.""Roman.""What?""Call me Roman."Using his first name makes this worse. It makes it... intimate. At least when he was "Mr. Everet" I could sort of pretend he wasn't a real person. The formality made it safer. Easier. But that's not exactly something I can explain to the man in front of me."Okay," I say. "Roman. I'd like to hear what you think I'm doing wrong."He doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he takes a long, slow drink, and I can't decide if he's giving me one last chance to walk away or if he just likes to watch me squirm. Finally, he puts his glass down."It's too much," he repeats."What is?""Everything. The way you're dressed. The way you try to get the attention of these men. It's coming off as desperate.""Desperate?" Oh, God. I mean, I know I feel desperate, but I didn't realize everyone else could see it.But Roman isn't finished."
last updateHuling Na-update : 2023-11-25
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Chapter 7: So. . . I Guess We're Doing This
Roman's hazel eyes flash with amusement. "Let's get started, then." He glances around the room once more. "Who is it going to be?""I have to pick?""Would you prefer I choose your target?"Okay, maybe not. I bite my lip and take another look at the men around me. Who should I approach? Someone alone, preferably. I don't think I have the skills to get a guy away from his friends. Maybe that guy over by the dart board who looks barely old enough to drink - he's got a frat-boy look, and if I know anything about frat boys, they'll respond to anything with breasts. But Roman might think he's too easy a target - seducing him won't prove anything. Besides, Frat Guy seems to be checking out that table of young women by the door. If I go over there and get rejected by him, I'm not sure I'll ever live it down. Next!My eyes fall next on an older man - probably in his mid- to late-fifties. He's nursing a beer by himself at a table in the corner. But as I watch, he straightens and lets out a
last updateHuling Na-update : 2023-11-25
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Chapter 8: I Am Really Bad At Picking Up Men
Chuck's not much of a conversationalist. Or maybe he's figured out that I couldn't name a single professional baseball player if my life depended on it. Either way, he doesn't say a word to me. And I, panicked and confused as I am, don't say a word to him. I feel like I should comment on the game, to at least try to make this work, but I know that I'll reveal my lie as soon as I open my mouth. And all I can think about is how Roman is watching me, waiting for me to make my move. The pressure is building with every passing second. I need to say something. Anything."What else do you like?" I ask him.He's still looking at the TV. "Hm?""What else do you like? Besides baseball, I mean. And chili fries."He shrugs, still watching the game. "Football. Basketball. Not really into hockey.""Ah." Is he making this hard on purpose? Is he not interested in me after all? If not, then why did he invite me to sit down?I have the urge to look back at Roman again, as if somehow his expression
last updateHuling Na-update : 2023-11-25
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Chapter 9: Seven Days Remaining (And I'm Still Awful At This)
If I felt like an idiot at the bar, I feel even worse the following morning. My head is killing me. Yeah, that's definitely the last time I trust the promises of a Long Island Iced Tea. That bitch.It's Saturday, which is when I'd normally sleep in, but for some reason I told Roman I'd meet him for lunch so we can discuss my strategy. I still have no idea why I agreed. Oh, right - I was drunk and stupid last night.As I pull on my jeans, I consider calling and canceling. The thought of facing him after last night makes me want to throw up - but on the other hand, that might just be the hangover. With my luck, I'll take one look at him and get sick all over his shiny designer shoes.The more I think about it, though, the more I realize that for some weird reason, I want to go. It doesn't matter if Roman actually believes I can pull this off, or if he's only doing this for his own pleasure. This is my chance to show him how far I'm willing to go for this job - and to learn a couple of
last updateHuling Na-update : 2023-11-25
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Chapter 10: A Lesson
The way Roman says that I should think of this as an 'opportunity' makes me all tingly.I give a nervous laugh. "An opportunity to humiliate myself?""I was thinking more along the lines of an opportunity to... expand your horizons a little."There's a suggestiveness in his tone, and it makes panic rise in me anew."Tell me," he says, "do you think you're attractive?"That question doesn't make this any easier. "I - I mean, I don't think I'm hideous.""That's not what I asked.""I... I'm pretty enough," I say. "I mean, I'm not going to be winning any beauty contests anytime soon, but I'm not afraid I'm going to die alone or anything." Not yet, anyway. "One day I'll meet a nice guy who thinks I'm beautiful no matter what and we'll settle down and have perfectly average little babies."Roman looks thoughtful. "Is that really what you believe? That you're just 'average'?""Don't say it like that." I fiddle with the edge of the tablecloth. "Objectively speaking, it's the truth. An
last updateHuling Na-update : 2023-11-25
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